A Writer’s Character Secret
September 21, 2022
Writing is an outlet for emotional and logical discussions for me. When no one wants to talk about what I want to work out in my mind, I write. I write for relaxation. It feels fun, challenging, and often makes me happy to be in my ”book worlds” I have made up.
For me, my “book worlds” allow me to explore things I can’t in this life. It’s like dreaming with my eyes open. I switch from book in progress to book in progress – I am currently working on about 18 titles actively. My mood in real life decides whom I want to step into in my brain. I know where each of my characters are in the stories – I know where I left them. Thus, I reread the last few paragraphs and dive in with whatever comes next.
Like my teenage self – lots of writing done then. I started when my father noticed I was “wasting” my school notebooks for stories, and he suggested I type them. I had a shoebox filled with 3.5”disks containing three or four stories each!
Imagine:
Her frustrations, emotions, dreams, adventurous spirit, and everything hidden deep within her as she worked her way through these books were laid out in her own stories tapped at a furiously increasing pace in MS Works on her father’s computer saved on a 3.5” disk. Her first completed story was her take on a true abortion survivor story. She became her characters. Her characters acted out and solved the problems she was facing. She talked and acted her characters and plotlines out while raking, mowing, or gardening in various locations. She was Erakk. Fighting to keep his character sound when faced with odd decisions he’d rather avoid. She was Jordan. Her desperate heart cry to be understood and learn how to teach bloomed from his soul in what was to become “Web of Deception.” She was Kelly. She was the girl struggling to lead and keep everyone together as their tiny band of outcast survivors developed a whole new world of peace and love. She became Kelly. The woman who mothers with an understanding she has gained from life and full dependence on Jesus. She was Kalina. She boiled with anger and frustration at not being allowed to do the things she desired with every fiber of her being and ended up learning that what she really wanted was only a small step in a journey back to what her elders had advised her to reach for in the first place. She was Ethan. An outcast in his own mind searching quietly for a sense of belonging he thinks he can make on his own despite the true reality that those close to him care deeply for him. She was Jamie. Facing challenges that feel too far above his age and making choices that defy the expectations of those above him; always choosing the answer of integrity and honor. She became Philip. Overcoming challenges in life that happened beyond his control yet bringing everyone along and pushing his family through to success in the end. She was Jo. Fiercely defending her sister from evils that trick the heart and destroy those close to her – blinding everyone except her. She was Jason. Defending his family from evils that weaseled their way into his family from years of incorrect choices by three generations behind him that build to forcing his father into being possessed into something he isn’t – now he has to choose to believe that the threads he holds onto are his father’s true self and force the evil away.
The stories continue. Some are finished. Some may never be…
A writer puts himself into the shoes of his characters and wriggles his toes around. We walk lifetimes in their shoes. We put ourselves in each character we create.
I always have a character in a book or series that I consider my shadow; sometimes it is the protagonist like Jordan in Web of Deception. Sometimes it is a supporting character like Philip Duggar in Brantley Station Saga or Kelly in The Devonians.
Oftentimes there are bits of me in each character. Strange thoughts…
I know, crazy writer’s brain, but that’s what I feel. That’s what it’s like to write for me.
If you stuck through this one, thank you ever so much for reading!
Type at you later,
~Nancy Tart
